


live my life in self-defense

by scepticallyopenminded



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Hale Pack as Vampires, I have a thing about magical stiles man, M/M, McCall Pack as Hunters, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Vampire Derek, Werewolf Scott
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 10:06:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4431152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scepticallyopenminded/pseuds/scepticallyopenminded
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having a brood of vampires, especially one as strong as Derek, would give them a huge upper hand, at least at home, and the brood would not doubt be willing to watch over the territory while they were away, something they desperately needed. </p>
<p>“I get to feed from Stiles at least twice a month.”</p>
<p>“You want him as your familiar,” Erica says with some amount of disbelief at the same moment that Malia and Jackson growl again, Allison letting out an obvious noise of disgust.</p>
            </blockquote>





	live my life in self-defense

**Author's Note:**

> title from "Diane Young" by Vampire Weekend
> 
>  
> 
> **edit: 5.27.17**
> 
>  
> 
> hiiii so I'm making this series a chaptered fic instead so here's the link to the new work:[everyone's at it](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4322871?view_full_work=true)

“I fucking hate my job,” is the first thing Stiles growls upon waking up. The thing is, he doesn’t have a headache, which he usually does when he wakes up after a fight with a bad guy, only the slightest of thrumming pain in his neck and –

And his hand flies up to touch his neck as his eyes shoot open, only to hear a chuckling above him – above him, where he quickly discerns Derek’s face is, because, he’s noticing as he touches his neck, where he _knows_ Derek put his fucking _fangs_ into him, _his head is laying in Derek’s lap_.

“What the fuck,” he asks as he sits up. There’s the usual slight rush of dizziness that accompanies sitting up quickly, but then there’s _more_ , and – and he almost falls over, except Derek catches him quickly, cocking his head with that same smirk he’s had all night.

“I’ve taken a pint of your blood, I wouldn’t try any heavy physical activity or moving too quickly at least until you’ve gotten some food and fluids into your body.”

Stiles just looks at him as he slumps back into the couch, Derek removing his hands after a moment.

“You didn’t change me, did you?”

Derek’s smirk gets a bit wider at that, but he shakes his head after a moment longer of simply staring at Stiles.

“We have a set of rules. Don’t change anyone without their consent.”

“But you’ll drink their blood without their consent,” he points out, because he most decidedly did _not_ say Derek could take his blood. Derek snorts.

“Vampires have some needs, and unfortunately there aren’t many that would be willing to give up their blood even if it was safe to allow them to know that we _exist_.” He cocks his head further to the side, smirk sliding more into a curious smile. “Think of it as an _experience_.”

Stiles is silent for another moment, thinking about tapping at the tattoo before Derek can actually kill him, except – it doesn’t make a lot of sense to him, how Derek didn’t simply drain him of his blood like he had with all his other victims. Sure, he’d have a pack after him and his brood then, but Stiles has _no_ doubts in his mind that a vamp like Derek, especially _prepared_ for a fight, could easily take out their rag-tag pack of three weres, a banshee, a kitsune, and a trained hunter, all of whom had only been _aware_ of themselves for ten or so years, not to mention _trained_ only for the past five or so. They were good, but Derek and his brood (which Stiles didn’t even _know_ how many were in it) were no doubt better.

“You didn’t drain me,” he says carefully. His weapons have been moved from the couch, hidden somewhere, he’s guessing, but he still has his tattoo, a quick succession of taps to his thigh, to call the entire pack to him in an instant, so he’s not too worried.

“Drain you?” Derek asks, seeming genuinely surprised for a moment before some form of clarity falls over his face, “Oh. You mean the dead bodies, I’m guessing.”

Stiles has to stop himself from rolling his eyes, because honestly, he’s sick of bad guys who can’t tell left from right.

“Yes, I’m talking about the dead, _drained of their blood_ bodies that have been cropping up since you moved in.”

Derek smirks again, and it’s becoming an expression that Stiles is rapidly growing bored and annoyed of.

“You honestly think me and my brood are doing that? Like we’d still be around if we were stupid enough to drain people everywhere they we go?”

Stiles stops for a moment, hand still resting on his thigh by the tattoo.

“It’s not you?”

He can’t help the surprise in his voice, because that makes no sense at all, unless – unless another vamp snuck its way onto their land, which doesn’t make sense either because _Derek_ would’ve  taken it out before they even had a chance. Vampires are well known to be even more territorial than weres and hunters.

“It’s not even a vampire,” Derek replies, eyebrows raised in a fashion that Stiles can tell clearly insinuates that he thinks that Stiles is an idiot.

“There have been puncture marks in all the victims. In places vampires are _known_ to go for, and the blood has been drained of them all.”

“Hunters as good as you and your pack have to know that vampires aren’t the only ones who drain blood.”

Stiles stops, because that’s _true_ , of course it’s true, it just never made sense in the context they were looking at this, because Derek and his brood moved in just weeks before the first victim. Everything had lined up perfectly, except _maybe not_.

“You know what it is, though.”

Derek huffs, nods.

“You might want to call the rest of your pack for this, though,” he nods toward Stiles’ thigh, where his hand is resting right next to the tattoo, and wait. How does he know _that_.

“You can’t read minds, can you?” Stiles asks as he moves his hand over to begin the sequence.

Derek snorts again.

“Just observant.”

Stiles calls the rest of the pack.

***

“So,” Lydia is the first to speak. There’s his pack, lining one side of the rather small office; Lydia, Scott, Jackson, Malia, Kira, Allison and Stiles. On the other is Derek, with his brood, introduced as Erica, Boyd and Isaac. Everyone’s fixing each other with death glares, with the exception of Derek and Stiles. Derek’s still got his (now trademark, in Stiles’ book) smirk on his face, and Stiles is just carefully looking between the two groups, hoping to god someone doesn’t make a move because he’s not so sure that there’s actually anything wrong with the vamps (except, of course, drinking blood without consent, but Stiles can at least kind of understand the reasoning behind that, even if he hates that Derek did it to _him_ ).

“So,” Derek says in return, eyebrow cocked.

“It’s not them,” Stiles decides to say then, carefully watching his pack.

“Like hell it’s not,” Allison starts, “We researched the hell out of this, there’s no way – ”

“What’s not us?” one of Derek’s brood speaks – Isaac, Stiles thinks – interrupting Allison, which she sends a death glare at him for.

“The bodies,” Derek supplies, sparing a half-second glance for his consanguine.

“Of course it’s not us,” the lone female of the group, who’d been tending the bar last Stiles knew, speaks up, sounding affronted at the very idea, “First rule of vampirism: don’t drain your supplier.”

“Lots of vamps do it though,” Scott points out, and Stiles sighs.

“I can vouch. He didn’t do it to me, at least.”

There’s a moment of silence as everyone absorbs the information, than gasps and cries of outrage from the pack.

“He _fed_ from you?” Malia nearly screams, lunging toward Derek. Scott catches her and pulls her back with help from Lydia, both of them obviously smart enough to know that at the very least they don’t want to start an all out war here, now. Derek, to his credit, doesn’t so much as flinch. Malia’s face stays in a snarl even as she’s ushered back behind the front line of Scott and Lydia and Stiles, and for that matter Jackson’s and Kira’s faces are much the same.

“That’s not the point,” Derek says, his face full of amusement, almost mocking, “The point is we aren’t the ones draining the humans. And I’m fairly sure we can unite behind the common goal of stopping whoever _is_ , because it draws unwanted attention from other hunters and supernaturals, which is something I doubt any of us want.”

“You know what it is, then,” Lydia observes, and Derek nods to her, face softening the slightest into a real smile as he looks to her.

“Obviously the most intelligent one of this pack,” he replies, flicking a glance over to Stiles, “And yes. It’s a lamia.”

There’s another moment of silence before Jackson speaks up.

“A what?”

“They’re an odd mix, something akin to a succubus and a vampire crossover. They generally only attack young males, though,” Stiles tells him, keeping his eyes trained on Derek.

“Very heteronormative of you,” Derek quips with a smirk directed at Stiles.

“Ha,” he says in return, biting at his lip in thought, “It’s a lamia, then.”

“We don’t know how to kill a lamia,” Lydia brings up, looking to Stiles, who nods, glancing her way before he flicks his eyes back to Derek.

“Do you?”

“Five hundred and twelve years a vampire and you don’t think I’ve figured out how to kill every supernatural being out there?” he asks in response, both eyebrows raised, and Stiles doesn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes this time.

“Are you going to _tell_ us, or just mock us with you all knowing-ness?”

Erica laughs at that, letting one shoulder fall in a shrug when Derek sends her a small glare.

“Silver knife to the heart, through either the front or the back. It’ll be enough to stun her for a few minutes, so you have to immediately after sprinkle the body with a rosemary and salt mix, and set her on fire.”

Everyone’s silent for a moment before Stiles speaks up.

“Let’s go, then.”

“We’ll help you track her,” Derek says before anyone can so much as move, “As soon as the club closes in an hour. We’ll help you track her, and we’ll also help with any other supernatural creatures or hunters that come on this territory, under one condition.”

“We don’t bargain,” Scott tells him quickly, “You don’t help us, or you hurt even one person, we’ll take you out, too.”

Derek outright laughs at that.

“He’s too strong for us,” Allison says, sounding as downtrodden about it as Stiles feels, “We wouldn’t stand a chance against _him_ alone.”

“So, we make a bargain,” Derek starts again, “We’ll help you, and as I stated before, I know every way to kill any supernatural creature who might even think about crossing this territory, and I’m well aware of how this town is a beacon for them. For a very small price.”

“Name it,” Lydia tells him, and Stiles fells the gentle pressure against his tattoo, Lydia telling them all what they already know; all of them have almost died a number of times, only saved by quick thinking and the sheer number of the pack. Having a brood of vampires, especially one as strong as Derek, would give them a huge upper hand, at least at home, and the brood would not doubt be willing to watch over the territory while they were away, something they desperately needed.

“I get to feed from Stiles at least twice a month.”

“You want _him_ as your familiar,” Erica says with some amount of disbelief at the same moment that Malia and Jackson growl again, Allison letting out an obvious noise of disgust.

“Me?” Stiles asks, sharing Erica’s feelings. He can’t imagine a vamp wanting a _hunter_ as their familiar. Derek just cocks his head to the side, stares at Stiles.

“Best blood I’ve tasted in four hundred years,” he says with a shrug of his shoulders, face twitching in the slightest. Isaac makes a small noise from where’s he’s next to Derek, looking over to Derek with a somewhat concerned face that Stiles completely catches.

“No,” Scott says before Stiles can say a thing more, “Absolutely not.”

“I don’t think this is your decision,” Derek tells him, eyebrows raised as he turns to look at Stiles, cocking his head slightly to the side again. Stiles stares back at him, mouth a straight line. He can hear the grunts of disapproval behind him, but after a moment, he gives a small nod.

“Fine. Deal.”

“Stiles,” Lydia says from beside him, sounding scandalized, but he presses down on his tattoo roughly, watching as Derek’s eyes flick down to his fingers and back up to his face, smirking.

“I can handle it,” he says, glancing sideways quickly to gauge Scott and Lydia's faces – who’re both staring at him in blatant shock.

“You’re _human._ A pint of your blood every two weeks? You’re not going to be able to hunt very well on that,” Erica points out, and Stiles flicks his eyes to her. He gives a small smirk of his own.

“I’m a spark, actually. Any blood loss can easily be replaced by magic, I’ll be strong as ever.”

Stiles watches as things click in Erica, Isaac and Boyd’s minds. Derek continues to stand there, unmoving, small grin on his face.

“Stiles,” Allison starts, stepping forward half a foot. Stiles looks back at her, expectant.

“You don’t have to do this, we don’t _need_ them – ”

“Ally,” he stops her, smiling a bit, “We could use their help and everyone here knows it. It’ll be okay, and with a familiar, at least we won’t have to worry about him going out and killing innocent humans, right?”

Nobody says anything to that, and after a moment of silence Derek nods.

“Deal, then. The club closes in an hour, like I said, and then we can head out.”

Stiles nods in return, glancing back to his pack.

“We can head out and grab everything we need, meet back here.”

Although they all look disgruntled at the way things have gone down, everybody nods, and after a moment Scott gestures to the door.

“Let’s go,” he tells them, and they all file out, Lydia and Jackson and Allison and even Kira sending looks – glares – at Derek and his brood. Stiles is the last out, and Derek follows behind, placing a light hand at Stiles back, which he flinches away from instinctively. Derek is persistent, though, and brushes his lips against Stiles’ ear.

“Already looking forward to two weeks from now,” he whispers, and Malia, who’s in front of Stiles, lets out a growl but doesn’t turn around. Stiles does, sending Derek a look as he backs up a half-step. The vampire just smiles in return – an actual, soft smile, not a smirk, which throws Stiles a bit. Derek holds eye contact for half a moment before turning back to his brood, and Stiles watches him for just another second before he follows the rest of his pack down the hall, out the back door, not as sure as he had been about what he’s actually gotten himself into.

**Author's Note:**

> okay so this is all I'm gonna plan on doing now for this but I have plans for future parts but it's gonna be less of a coherent story line and more of drabbles of the future of this agreement but yes I do have an overarching basic storyline that will occur so. I'm excited about it definitely.  
> but for now I really need to work on a few other things.


End file.
